


Roman War

by Sonamae



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A lot of sass, Body Horror, Graphic depictions of true bodies, Leviathans, M/M, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-22 15:46:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonamae/pseuds/Sonamae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick Roman meets War in a waiting room in the afterlife, and fuck does he dislike him.  It's rather unfortunate that War has taken such a shining to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roman War

**Author's Note:**

> This is so late and I am so sorry feel free to rip me in half. Written for the lovely Fiona. I am so sorry doll.

 From the moment you woke up in the sludge of your mothers belly and ripped your way through to the surface, you’ve known certain _facts_ about life.  One of them is that human beings are _food_ , bits of meat that walk and talk amongst themselves like you can’t hear them.  They are filthy cattle you can groom and feed into complacency, but they are also masks to wear while you wait for them ripen.  It makes your head hurt for all the effort you put into them, yet still, you do it.  It’s the easy way, and the smoothest way.  
  
 Or, you’d _thought_ that at least.  Seeing as you’d gotten blown up by two of the humans you’d planned on eating.  You figured you’d assumed wrong about every single one being cattle, there were a few bulls.  
  
 And speaking of being blown up, another fact you had learned about life was how to kill yourself.  You regret ever sharing that little secret, for obvious reasons since you’re currently dead.  It’s a fact that has you reevaluating every conversation you’ve ever had, or will have if you have a future.  
  
 Angels are blabber mouths.  Especially cupids, you don’t even have the willpower to finish that thought.  
  
 But either way, when you first started this… _thing_ that was meant to be a farming scheme, you’d had an _outline_.  It was an idea on what you wanted, and everything had been going smoothly until those two fuck heads had waltz in demanding they be able to live their lives, murder free.  You’d had a good laugh at that, given their history.    
  
 But now you’re ‘dead’ and back to square one.  All because of the _Winchesters_.  
  
 Then again, everyone in this place was probably put here because of those two.  Not that it surprises you, they have a certain… _knack_ , if you will, for refusing to let certain things go.  You have to eat healthy, they do too, but it seems they don’t want you to if it means you feed upon their kind.  
  
 You try not to stretch in the chair and feel your insides gurgle, they want to fall back to the floor and just stay there.  It’s happened twice before since you got here, and it took two days to get them to crawl back inside of you after you both started arguing.  When they finally did, a creature… no, an _idol_ walked in and plopped into one of the chairs before complaining about how his ‘feet’ hurt from ‘All this running around because of paperwork!  I’ve been here four times already!’  
  
 Across from you in this afterlife of a waiting room, a ‘human’ in a red shirt is smirking as he keeps looking back at you, and it’s been days since he got here.  You want to eat his face off, but you’re more than sure if you get up before your name is called, you’ll stop existing.  As annoying as he is, or anyone in this room is, you’re not _that_ annoyed.  
  
 “War?” An entity steps into the room and floats over to the man in the red shirt. “I told you to stop that.” The entity mutters, smacking the mans hand as he reaches out for the pen before.  He snorts and points at you, opening his mouth to start forming words.  
  
 Nothing comes out.  
  
 He keeps talking anyway.  
  
 “I don’t care if he started it, Mr. Smarty Pants.  You pick the worst people to poke in the ribs,” The entity muttered before holding out a clipboard. “Stop being a ninny and sign this.” It said before holding out a different pen.  The man laughed with enough strength that it echoed around the room, not noise but pure feeling.   
  
 Rage and vicious blood lust, fear and terror, pure horrified defense.  
  
 When he’s satisfied with his signature, he turns to you and smiles as he hands the clipboard back.  He waves a hand that’s missing two fingers at you, then watches them reform with a delighted chuckle.  He stands up and the entity glares at him, pointing back at the chair.  He moves across the room and sits next to you, a taunting sneer on his face as the entity huffs.  
  
 “Ugh, metaphysical’s!  You’re all such entitled pricks!” The entity says before floating off into one of the white corners that you assume are meant to be walls.  You ignore the man as he gets comfortable in the chair, looking at your claws as they grip the chair arms.  
  
 You aren’t put together and it isn’t very pleasant.  You’re in most of your natural form, but it’s… well, currently there are chunks of you trying to squirm back together and stay that way.  Being blown up will do that to a guy.  
  
 “Hello there, handsome,” the man beside you says with the same smirk. “How are you this fine afterlife?” You turn and stare at him.  He just keeps smiling, unmoving.  
  
 “No.” You tell him.  Now that you know who, or _what_ for that matter, he is, it makes you like the idea of him hitting on you even _less_.  
  
 “You look like you’ve been through the ringer,” The man says with a dreamy sigh. “Must be a real fighter.”  
  
 “Still a no.” You hiss, watching your tongue drip in half and fall out.  It slides down your tail and hits the floor with a very nasty splat, making a vampire across the room wince.  You sigh and reach for it, but War picks it up and hands it back with a soft sigh before you can.  
  
 “Gosh Mr.,” Oh your _father_ , the sarcasm.  It hurts. “You’re something else, aren’t you?  All out chaos and rampaging anguish wrapped up in that beautiful casing.” War practically swoons and puts his elbow on the chair, chin resting on his palm with this dopey look on his face.  
  
 “Eww.” You don’t mean to say that out loud, but you do.  Someone down the row snickers and you lash your tail at them, spearing them through the throat and dragging their corpse over to your body.  You drip ooze all over them as you move your mouth to your feet to swallow them whole without having to lift them above your head.  
  
 The less mess, the better.  
  
 The action seems to make War laugh for some odd reason, practically swooning over you as he does so.  You want to shove him away and rip him to pieces all at once.  Embodiment or not, you really can’t stand him _or_ his kind.  
  
 Well, you don’t mind Death so much, but honestly, it’s _Death_.  He enjoys food just as much as you do.  
  
 “You are a feisty little one, aren’t you?” War asks.  
  
 “Pedophile.” You state, then wince when your lower half finally reconnects to your top half.  You hear a snap and you look down to see one of your spinal cords twisted on top of your skin, it melts along what should be your hips.  You shift in the chair and feel one of your spines roll back into place.  That feels better, but not the best.  
  
 “Last I heard, I wasn’t the only cradle robber around here.” He says, reaching out to pluck a piece of desk out of your shoulder.  You hiss louder and snap your teeth at him, all three thousand of them.  It makes him purr at you, and you upturn your nose and go back to ignoring him.  
  
 “I have nothing to say to someone who isn’t even the same species as me.” You state, then wince and reach into your chest to pull a pencil out of one of your lungs.  Fucking explosions.  
  
 “On the contraire, you seem to have a lot to say to this particular entity,” War says sweetly. You turn and roll all seven of your eyes at him. “What?  Can’t I make conversation?” War asks.  
  
 “I just got blown up, I’ve only been here for a week.  You’ve been here _how_ long?” You ask, flexing your claws against the armrests. “You sit here in this room, hitting on anything that rolls through don’t you?” You ask him. “That’s unprofessional.”  
  
 War snorts and shakes his head. “Time isn’t linier here, and it’s not my first time.  I know how it works better than you do,” He smiles and taps his fingers on his cheek. “Speaking of, I heard how you got here through the grapevine, but how do you know I got here?” He wonders.  
  
 “You’ve been ‘here’ for several years now, at least according to the information I’ve gathered.” You stop talking with a snap of your jaw, then turn and look at War as you rise to your full height in your chair. “What did you do to make me talk to you?” You hiss, low in your throat as you let your tongue slide out, flicking poison.  You would never supply information like this, not willingly.  
  
 War just disregards it as it speckles his face, seemingly immune. “Nothing, it’s this place.” He waves a hand around at the walls. “Here you have nothing to hide from anyone.  Ask a question, get a true answer, even if it’s one worded.” He lets his hand fall to the armrest and gives you a once over.  
  
 “Stop.” You tell him, feeling a growl form.  If you didn’t know that eating him would be pointless and get you nowhere, you’d have done it already.  
  
 “It was the Winchesters, wasn’t it?” War asks suddenly, pouting. “It’s always them, they crash the most delicious potential every time before it can really take off.” He huffs. “You would have brought the world into such _organized_ chaos, but it lacked flare.” You turn to him and growl as loud as your still healing vocal cords will let you.  
  
 “It wasn’t meant to have / _lare_ , it was meant to go unnoticed so there would be little to _no_ fight,” You say before turning your head. “Just stop talking to me, I’m waiting for my name.”  
  
 “But-”  
  
 “Don’t make me eat you.” You snap.  War huffs and crosses his arms, turning away from you with a muttered ‘Not like it would do anything.’  It’s so strange to see him as a partial human and pouting when you know what he really is.  
  
 Both of you are meant to be in your true forms, and while you’re perfectly happy to be a healing black creature of the most utmost nightmares, War seems to be favoring a more… human look.  You can see what he looks like through the glass eyes though.  
  
 If you stare at it long enough, it makes you want to moan.  You’re not sure if it’s in pleasure or terror though.  
  
 He’s made up of pure anguish, anger, venom and violence.  Claws and teeth with shredding skin, blood of every color dripping from wounds and pain so sharp it’s worse than an open wound with vinegar poured in.  
  
 When he gets lost in his own thoughts, his human body will fade away and he take the shape of something that looks… well, it terrifies even you.  
  
 You turn away from him and focus on making your own body stick together for more than five seconds before it tries to fall apart again.  It takes three Earth days to accomplish.  For seventy-two hours you’re able to sit in complete peace and quiet while you focus on recreation of semi-vital organs.  You completely forget you’re not the only one in the waiting room.  
  
 “I’m bored,” and then he starts talking.  You groan and slap yourself in the face, dragging your claws across your skin until it peels away. “Does it honestly take three days to file a complaint about the wait time?” War wonders.  
  
 You try to go back to ignoring him, but he turns to you and pokes your side. “I was serious about eating you.” You tell him sharply.  
  
 “Oh I know, do you want to get out of here?” War asks.  You turn slowly, raising an eyebrow muscle.  You don’t have any hair, so it’s kind of awkward for an outsider to look at.  
  
 “What?” You shake your head in confusion. “No one gets out of the waiting room.” You start to turn back, but War snorts.  
  
 “Really, that’s what they’ve told you?” He asks you before standing up.  You flinch and close your eyes, waiting for the entities to come and kill him.  Or erase him, whatever it is they really do.  After a good five minutes, nothing happens. “What are you doing?” He asks you.  
  
 You open your eyes, one at a time, then look up to see him staring at you in the most puzzled way. “Shut up.” You hiss.  He rolls his eyes and holds out his hands to help you up, but you ignore it and slither up, looking around.  
  
 “The last time I tried to get up I got threatened with nonexistence.” You mutter.  War laughs and pats you on the back, you snarl and bite off everything below his elbow.  It grows back in a matter of seconds while he continues to laugh.  
  
 “Come on, I’ll show you how to get out of here.” He says before he turns and starts walking toward a corner of the room.  
  
 “This is breaking the rules.  It goes against order.” You follow after him anyway.  
  
 War snickers and crosses his arms. “Like you actually follow orders, or like I do for that matter.” He teases.  You snarl at him and try to bite him again, but he jerks away and shakes his head.  
  
 “I make the orders, I don’t follow other people.” You inform him.  
  
 “Of course, you lead the creatures right?” He seems to be teasing you, fluttering his eyelashes playfully at you.  
  
 “I do, and ‘creatures,’ as you so rudely put it, follow war.” You tell him, it makes him stop and turn to give you another once over. “What?” you snap.  
  
 “Did you just admit to being one of the common folk?” War asks you with a smirk.  You growl and slither passed him, your arms crossed.  
  
 “Just tell me how to get out of here, I need to get back to Purgatory.” You snap your jaw and feel a few of your teeth pop loose.  In irritation, you reach up a yank them out, feeling them dissolve into your gums and reform in seconds.  It’s not pleasant, but it’s over rather quickly.  
  
 War raises an eyebrow at you, beginning to walk again. “You wouldn’t rather go back to Earth?” he asks as he catches up to you.  You shake your head no and keep on slithering.  The sound of your muck and his shoes in this suddenly not-hallway are a tad unnerving.  Not that anything unnerves you, mind you. “Why not, isn’t that where your only food source is?” You turn and sneer at War and his implication, licking your third row of teeth to get acquainted with the new ones.  
  
 “Seems I’m not the only one who was misinformed,” You tell him as your appendages twine together. “Humans are by _far_ the most delectable of food choices, but they are not the _only_ ones.  We eat other beings as well as our own kind, we are not limited.  Whilst stuck in the darkest depths of Purgatory, our numbers were thinning at rapid rates, but then…” You stop when War bends to tie his shoelaces.  That’s got to be the most trivial thing you’ve ever seen him do, and you watched the man chew gum a few days ago.  
  
 “Oh, do go on,” War tells you as he loops the strings around his fingers.  There are several things you want to say to him, but none of them really encompass what you feel at that particular moment.  You growl instead. “Oh don’t be such a priss, my shoes needed tying.” He says with a smirk as he tugs the laces.  
  
 You narrow a few of your eyes at him, the rest rolling in your skin before disappearing down your throat.  With a huff you start chewing, tapping the end of one of your appendages until the metaphysical stands up straight and smiles.  He waits, hands moving to slide into his pockets while you swallow your own eyes and they grow back into your skin.  War is oddly patient with you, contrary to all the things you’ve heard about him being short tempered and wrathful.  You see no harm in making him wait, your body is under control again and if he tries to kill you he’ll have one bothersome time of it.  
  
 “As you were saying?” He asks, offering a smile as you both start walking again.  You frown at him and sigh, it seems all you can do is talk to this man.  
  
 “But then we found a loophole.” You mutter. “Or, humans and angels did.  They abused such power to ends that were to our liking.  We escaped through Castiel-”  
  
 “Cutie with a booty more like.” War smirks at his own words and you scoff.  
  
 “And then we made our way to Earth.  You’re still a cradle robber.” You turn to him with a judgmental stare and he shrugs, leading you down a winding path.  The surroundings are still white and empty, but you can feel yourself walking on a downward slope.  The gravity of this place seemingly nonexistent.  
  
 War hums, the edge of a scream in his tone before he reaches out to open a nonexistent door that bathes the room in violet light.  He walks through first, possibly as a sign of trust, but you follow after him none the less. “Did you have a plan to kill humanity before or after you landed in the sink drain of the cosmos?” War asks after a pause.  
  
 You growl as you slide up the wall and begin walking upside down. “Before, I had to fine tune the plan once I saw how filthy humanity was, but I knew what I was going to do.  What I would lead my race to do.” You curse inwardly at the urge to answer every question.  You’ll need to figure out how to turn this around on him _sooner_ rather than _later_.  
  
 War seems to let the answer sink in, smiling as he joins you on the ceiling.  He seems to delight in such trivial conversations, as well as trivial human _actions_ like shoe tying.  He seems to enjoy tapping his feet a few times here and there as he walks, mostly just to watch your reaction.  The otherwise silent journey across the hall is blissful.  
  
 “Besides human, what’s your favorite creature to eat?” War asks suddenly.  You groan and claw at your face once again.  
  
 “Angels.” You growl it between your fingers.  War chuckles and reaching over, patting your shoulder.  With a snarl you whip around and claw at his body, but all that goes through your fingers is smoke.  War laughs and snatches up your hand, dragging it through his chest.  It slides into him until you’re elbow deep inside what should be his chest cavity.  
  
 The area where your arm slides in ripples, that fake casing shivering for a few seconds before it snaps back into place as War growls.  The noise he makes turns into foreign sounds, screaming and gunfire, anguish and torture, noises that make your ears bleed.  The feeling goes right down to your soul and you moan, appendages wobbling until you fall forward.  Your arm slides out of War’s chest and he holds you up, pulling you close as you pant.  
  
 That cheating bastard.  
  
 “I’d play a bit nicer if I were you, _sweetheart_.  Don’t forget what I am, and I won’t forget what you are.” His voice is suddenly all serious tones, the sounds of gunfire underneath.  There are guttural screams of rage when he leans over to kiss your forehead.  
  
 You gasp and push him away, feeling so utterly violated.  For some reason your body likes that, but then your mind screams that it’s all a lie and you actually don’t like it, and that confuses you.  You’ve never had a problem with your emotions, but War seems to have an uncalculated effect on you.  He just smirks when you draw back, reaching out to wrap a hand around one of your appendages gently.  
  
 It’s like he’s holding your hand on a date, and it makes you want to vomit.  
  
 “Are you ready to go?” He asks, smiling at you.  You look away and finally snatch your appendage back, following after him.  War has power, power over you and other creatures to an extent you can’t even fathom.  He’s a being that can enrage without trying, a being that can fool and play about with even the strongest willed of souls.  
  
 In fact, he’s playing you like a fool right now, you can feel it.  The thought that he’s using you so freely enrages you, and you don’t know what to do.  How does he know what pushes your buttons, how does he control your emotions so easily?  
  
 “Do you like sushi?” War asks you, absent minded.  
  
 You narrow your eyes at him. “Yes, especially if it’s endangered.” Then you realize something.  All the thoughts in your brain click into place.  After all, you’ve always known certain facts, and War does too.  
  
 “I have a question for you.” You ask, watching as War turns with a smile.  
  
 “Oh, please, ask away.” War says sweetly, excited to have a conversational partner in this seemingly endless journey.  
  
 You feel yourself smirking. “Can you die?” War stops walking, then turns to you slowly as his human form flickers.  
  
 “Yes.” He answers, taking a step toward you.  You stand your ground, crossing your appendages as you keep smirking.  
  
 “Then how do I kill you?” You ask him, excited on your own behalf now.  If what he said earlier was true, then he has to answer you truthfully, even if it’s just one word.  You can keep pressuring him until he spills the beans if you need to.  
  
 War advances on you quicker than you can react to him, pressing his chest against your own as the sounds and feel of torture and a stabbed throat hit you, you’re drowning in your own blood and fluids and you haven’t even moved.  There is no actual wound, he’s not injured you, but you feel it as if t had actually happened.  
  
 Every slice of rage, every jerk and seizure, you feel it roll along you in waves.  It makes you want to die all over again.  Then War leans in and whispers an answer into your ear, licking your face with a tongue that isn’t fitting of a human body.  When he pulls back that human shell is gone, he’s his true form.  It’s indescribable and your knees buckle.  
  
 You didn’t expect to get so turned on, it terrifies you as you feel your entire body build up toward an orgasm you don‘t even need.  Then it’s gone when the human casing is back.  War casts you the kindest smile you’ve ever seen.  He helps you steady yourself, a hand on your waist as you both begin to walk in utter silence.  
  
 The information you’ve gathered should make you elated, instead it makes you feel _ill_.  You want to curl up in a puddle of slime and cry, hugging your chest and letting out little gasps of shock, ooze pouring from your eyelids.  War just hushes you and rubs your spine, so soft and gentle.  
  
 “I know, it’s a lot to take in.” He whispers. “Do you want to stop?  We can take a break for you to gather yourself.” In any other circumstance, you’d say no.  
  
 But after what you heard, after what just happened?  You shake your head yes vigorously, feeling War guide you along to another area. “Please.” It’s all you can get out.  
  
 Everything around you is soft blue and gray, it reminds you of home and it‘s only a small comfort.  The two of you sit on the wall and War spends what feels like an eternity just petting you as you curl up on your side with your head in his lap, body stretched out on the wall.  You feel like a pet, a plaything, and you honestly don’t give a fuck.  
  
 “Not as fun as you thought it would be, is it?  Having power over War?” he asks.  
  
 You glare up at him and he just scratches the back of your neck. “It was never meant to be fun,” you inform him, “I just wanted to have something over you so you’d stop talking so much.” War snorts and keeps running his hands over your body.  
  
 “Feel free to ask me whatever you like, just know I’m terribly honest.” War tells you, smiling down at you as he waits for more questions.  You don’t talk, not for a while at least, instead you close your eyes and feel the way the world moves around you.  When you’re able to breath in, you have a question on your tongue, a hand rubbing against your neck.  
  
 “Is there a way to control you?” You ask him, turning to look up at his reaction.  War just nods and holds up his hand, tapping his ring finger.  
  
 “Find my ring, find an incantation, then we can talk.” You roll your eyes at him and sit up, sliding along the wall until your standing.  
  
 “Take me home.” You tell him.  War smiles at you as he stands and wraps an arm around your waist again.  The urge to push him away isn’t even there anymore, in fact it’s the opposite.  You lean into his touch as you both walk, the silence you share makes you comfortable, just like the press of his fingers against your hip.  
  
 When War reaches out and opens a door to Purgatory, you blink in surprise, then frown.  That was a lot faster than you’d expected.  He looks at you expectantly and nudges you toward the door with his palm on your lower back.  
  
 “Go on, in you get.” He instructs.  
  
 “I am _not_ a child.” You hiss, a foot away from the door. “I…” The words are right there on your tongue, but they don’t pour out like you want them to.  War sighs, rolling his eyes before he steps forward and pulls you to his chest.  
  
 “You really _are_.” He mutters before he kisses you.  The shock makes you gasp and kiss back, not the pleasure.  Not that there is any…  
  
 Holy _fuck_ you’re such a liar.  You want him and you know it.  Who wouldn’t want that much power fawning after then, fucking into their very soul?  
  
 Suddenly yanking himself away from you, War pushes you through the doorway and smiles. “I’ll see you soon, _dearest_.” You snarl at him and dive toward the door, but he’s already shut it.  You claw at open air and scream.  
  
 That _prick_.  
  
 Now you have to claw your way back to the surface just to find him and kick his ass!  
  
 Behind you, you hear the sound of a scream of terror and your stomach growls.  You had no idea you were hungry.  Your mouth waters and you turn away from the door War dropped you through, slithering along the ground.  Food first, then War.  
  
 Beautiful, aggravating, _awful_ War.


End file.
